


Only Us

by DrarryismyJamilton



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Heavy Angst, Love Triangles, Non-Sexual Submission, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrarryismyJamilton/pseuds/DrarryismyJamilton
Summary: For Peter Jefferson, it was love at first sight. For Laura Laurens, it was supposed get her into the room where it happens.





	1. The Jefferson Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Second Fic YAY! uhhhh.... everything follows the musical as far as major events, but those events are not the main focus of this story . Comments and kudos are always welcome! *bows and runs away*

Chapter One: The Jefferson Charm

I look around the corner at her. She is the most beautiful woman in all of New York, or dare I say it the world. Unfortunately, because of politics, I don’t think she’ll ever see me as anything but an enemy. I bet you’re all wondering how I got myself into this situation. Well, it all started last week. I was heading downtown to the capitol building to surprise my father, Thomas Jefferson. That’s right, my father is none other than the Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence, and Secretary of the State Department. Anyway, so I was walking downtown, and as I approach, there she was. Like a glass of fresh water in a desert. I immediately jump back around the corner and peek at her. Such rich brown hair, and such adorable freckles she is tres magnifique!   
My heart is pounding and I’m not sure how I’m going to get her to talk to me, until I remind myself that I am a Jefferson, and if there’s one thing we’re good at, it is charming ladies. I gather my courage and pluck a rose from a nearby flower vendor and make my way over to the apple of my eye. As I approach, I can see that she is reading. Great! An opening! When she looks up, I give my best smile and when I look into her eyes for the first time, I’m helpless. “ Uh, Bonjour!” I slip into my native language on instinct. “Vous êtes une jolie madameoiselle, et je voudrais donner vous une fleur c’esr jolie aussi! Je m’appelle Peter, et vous?” (Hello,you are one pretty miss, and i want to give you a flower that is also pretty! My name is Peter, and you?)  
She looks up at me with confusion, “I’m sorry, what was that? I’m still learning French, I don’t understand what you said?” She closed the book with her finger placed on the spot she was reading, then I saw the the book she was reading, Common Sense by Thomas Paine! But that’s an older book and a book most women don’t read. My angel is more than her heavenly attributes it seems. I look down to her and finally realize what she said, I turn pink and rub the back of my head.   
“Oh sorry, I slipped into French. It happens sometimes, as I grew up in France.” I chuckle nervously and breath in for courage, “What I meant was: Hello, you are one pretty miss, here, take this rose to show how beautiful you are. My name is Peter, what is yours?”   
She looks at me with a slight coy look, “Last name? And my name is Laura, Laura Laurens,” She rises from her seat and she is so adorable! My Papa would be so proud that I found such an angel. She’s probably only 5’2 to my 5’10 close to 6 foot. She reaches out her hand for a handshake and I take it willingly.   
“Jefferson, Peter Jefferson, the son of our dear Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson,” and something turned sour on this sweet angel’s face, it goes from a sweet simple smile to a pained grin, what did I say?   
“Oh, well, may I ask you a few simple questions?” She grins as she looks at the big clock on the side of the building.  
“Of course ma cherie! I would love to!!” Ah my rose wants to get to know me! This is my chance !  
“Do you perchance share the same views as your father?”  
“Yes” Why wouldn’t I? Such a silly girl.  
“That includes about slavery, how those men, women and children should submit to our every whim?”  
“Yes. . .” Merde ! This is not how I wanted it to go! I can’t stand politics, I only participate because of my father’s wishes.  
“And about how you treat women, about how a women is the property of a man and should only be limited to staying inside and not going to school and reading things like Thomas Paine, John Locke, Thomas Hobbes, Aristotle, Plato, Socrates? So you share that same view,” She presses towards me just a hair, just one step towards me, as her beautiful face, turns so sour. Her face puckers in displeasure and anger.  
“Ma cheri, I must confess that on that front, me and my father do not agree, however, generally speaking, we are politically aligned.” It isn’t long before my goddess burns my pride to ashes.  
The doors of the building open and she smiles, she curtsies with a “Well I must be off, Good day to you Sir, Peter Jefferson, correct?” Before I can answer she’s already turned and walking away, “I believe we will meet again,” She smirks and is beside Secretary Hamilton. As she goes. I look down at my hand and see the rose gone, she took the rose. . . she took the rose! SHE TOOK THE ROSE!!!!!!!!! I smile so brightly that it competes with the sun, I barely refrain from jumping and screaming, but I want to.Lord knows I want to. Suddenly, I spot my father leaving the building, and I rush over to him, brimming with excitement!  
“PAPA! I think I have found the one! I found the woman I want to marry. She’s got me feeling so helpless. I looked into her eyes and the sky’s the limit.” My father looks at me, skeptical.  
“ What is her name Peter? Is she well bred? Does she have similar interests?”  
“Well she said her name was Laura Laurens, but she walked off with Secretary Hamilton. Do you know the nature of their relationship? And when I saw her she was reading Common Sense! Common Sense! My angel is extremely quick witted. “ Papa does a double take.  
“ Did you say Laura Laurens? Son, you couldn’t have picked a worse woman. That is Hamilton’s adopted daughter! He will never let you anywhere near his daughter...Unless.”  
“Unless?”  
“Unless we have a spy on the inside! Come, we must hurry home. I must talk to James as well as your sister,” I stare at him with confusion.  
“ But Papa, I thought you didn’t like Hamilton? Why would you support me marrying his daughter?”  
“Because it would be such a blow for Hamilton if his daughter fell for the Jefferson’s charm. Then maybe he won’t constantly disagree with me in meetings.” I dutifully follow behind him as he chuckled darkly.  
“As long as you’re sure this will work Papa”


	2. Plots and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the scheming begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in Laura’s point of view y’all.

Chapter Two: Plots and Plans

Thomas Jefferson, Thomas fucking Jefferson, out of all the people on this planet, I had to meet the son of the man my father hates the most with all his being. His son, That’s just great, perfect, this clumsy, frenchman (well not really now that I know), kind of cute guy, is Thomas Jefferson’s son, why does that seem so ironic to me, I look back and kind of see it. Why else would he come up to me?   
I was sitting on the bench in front to the Congress building, just where father asked me to stay, he had such an apologetic face, knowing it was slightly cruel, but I am neither male or a congressman, so I nod and smile to him. I sit down, and begin to read the new book Auntie Anglecia gave to me, Common Sense, by Thomas Paine, I had been wanting to read this since the beginning of the new year! I was happy she did, though she just lent it to me, so I can’t keep it, but I’m thankful I can at least read it. I read quickly and proficiently.  
I get through just less than half, when a man walks up to me and I slightly stare in amazement, he was kind of cute. Wait, did I just say that? No, no I didn’t you’re all crazy. But I stare,he was in a suit the color of pink, where his pants go to his knees, where socks met them. His face was a rich brown, his hair was insane, bouncy and free. Half of his hair was shaved on the right side. He had grown a beard that wrapped around his face quite pleasantly. His eyes were a sweet brown, piercing and humble, with a deep hint of innocence, they did not match his smile that was charming and smug and default, false. He starts to speak to me in french and shit, I’ve been slacking on my French lessons. I’ve learn two languages now and the one he speaks is french and it totally goes over my head. Aunt Eliza is going to kill me, oops, hehehe. He held out a rose, a small, red rose. That’s adorable, and I close my book to speak to him, asking what he said, for I did not understand a bit of it. And that is where I find out he’s Jefferson’s son dammit!  
He was cute, now the charms’s gone, ugg. I question him wondering if he was going to be the opposite, a girl can hope, but my dreams were crushed. So I got angry and snarky, and the Hamilton in me sprung to life, but it was short lived, for the doors opened and I was whisked away by father. Not before stealing the rose, he did offer it to me after all, and it would be rude to not accept such a gift.  
“So who was that you were talking to dear?” Father asks me. I slouch at his question.   
“A Jefferson. It was nothing though, and no I wasn’t harassed I think he didn’t know I was a Hamilton for I didn’t give him that last name,” I smile hesitantly at him. He looks at me and gives me a knowing look.  
“Oh really? Was it really nothing? Then where is that rose from?” He points at the small blossom in my hand. I bush heatedly frantically trying to come up with an excuse. Instantly putting the rose to my mouth to hide behind it.   
“Well he um, he offered it to me and I felt it would be rude if I didn’t accept it, after all, he seemed nice enough until I learned he was a Jefferson.” Father looks at me with a stern expression, oh no I hate that face, it sucks so much.   
“Laura, as much as I can't stand Thomas Fucking Jefferson, it would be hypocritical for me to hate this boy based on his family. You can't judge his son based on the circumstances of his birth, even though I want to”   
“But Father-” I stop and throw my arms down. We are a few houses away from home so I don’t care about stopping. He stops and turns around and looks at me.  
“No buts, now I hear Jefferson has a daughter your age, and based on what I've heard, you will like her, now come along child, we’re almost home and I know you’re dying to finish that book.” He continues home and I huff and pout and stomp off to him, catching up to him.  
“ Father, I don't need anymore friends, I have you.” I point out, “and I have everyone else too.”  
“Ah, as much as that pleases me, you need time to get to know your peers, cause “everyone” is your uncles and aunts and especially of the female variety, and no the Schuyler sisters do not count, they are your aunts.” He grins at my obstinate face. We reach the door and he opens the door for me. I walk in and I take off my cloak as he takes off his jacket.   
“Besides, developing key connections, will be instrumental in politics, in and out of meetings. Oh! but the best part would be Jefferson blowing his top if he finds out you're socializing with his daughter!” He walks away laughing, not before he kissed my forehead. I can't help but grin at this last point. Maybe father is right, this could be an opportunity to not only make a new friend, but also piss off Jefferson in the process.  
I rush up to my room, and begin to draft a letter, but suddenly realize, I don't know her name! I race down the hall to my father’s office, and as soon as I open the door he says,”Erika Jefferson.” I thank him and go back to my room.  
I put my quill to my mouth ( bad habit I know) and begin to write.  
Dear Erika Jefferson,  
I would like to introduce myself, my name is Laura Laurens, even though we have yet to meet, I would be honored to have you over for tea tomorrow afternoon. I would like to become more than an acquaintance to you, and get to know you, and in return I would love to tell you about myself. If you accept my most generous offer I will send the carriage around to collect you at 2 o'clock , if that is satisfactory. I will await your answer with the most longing and patience.  
Sincerely,  
Laura Laurens  
I lean back in my chair and admire my handiwork. I seal the note with our family seal and summon a page boy to deliver the letter. I press a gold coin into his hand and tell him, “ Make sure this gets into Erika Jefferson’s hands directly, and bring back her response.”  
“Yes’m” The boy runs off on his errand and I sigh. And now we wait.


	3. Erika Makes an Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon tea, my favorite. Also Peter’s POV

My father and I make our way home in silence. My father daydreaming about Hamilton’s reaction to me courting his daughter, and I was, well, daydreaming about courting his daughter. I don’t know what exactly my father is planning, but I want to show Laura that I am more than my last name. Maybe we’ll go on a nice picnic, and we can share stories of our respective childhoods, or maybe simple go for a walk in Central Park. I could bring over flowers. Would roses be too much? Maybe I should bring carnations first…   
My daydreaming is interrupted by our arrival. Our house is quite elegant, mostly because my father refuses to set foot in a building not up to par with Monitello, and he definitely wouldn't sleep in one. We make our way up the stone steps and a servant opens the door.  
As we enter we are greeted with the master staircase, lined with servants ready to rush to our Beck and call. Laura's words echoed in my mind, do people need to be like this, we need staff to keep the house clean and tidy. Why would you question it? We make our way up the steps, father walks to his study without a word, I walk to my room, but I am interrupted by a familiar voice, “PETER!” My younger sister of 17 years. She's dressed a simple gown, no need to wear nice clothes at home. Her hair bouncy and full of curls like it always is, pulled back by a small cloth, as just her bangs come and cover one side of her face. She runs up to me and hugs me, squeezing me to no end. “Cher frère, je t'ai tellement manqué! Vous êtes loin à l'université depuis trop longtemps!” (Dear brother, I missed you so much! You've been away at college for far too long!)  
“Ma petite soeur, je t'ai manqué aussi! En effet, il a été trop long. How have you been? Has father been much like how he usually is? Been to any parties or balls? I know you love them.” (my little sister I missed you as well! Indeed it has been too long.)  
“Papa has been the same as usual, going on and on about whatever ‘ridiculous’ thing Alexander Hamilton has said at the cabinet meeting. I have been well, but I haven’t been to many balls because I lack a proper chaperone and Papa refuses to take me. Although lately it seems that Papa has been talking about my ‘Marriageable’ age more and more frequently…”  
Before I can reply a servant informs us that father requests our presence in the Blue parlor. I look to Erika, wanting to explain, but decide to allow father that “honor”. I simply sigh and take her arm, following the servant up the stairs. Along the way, we pass the numerous portraits of our ancestors, and I can’t help but think of how terribly arrogant the display is. In fact, this entire house is one big display of arrogance. No wonder Laura thinks I’m a prat, this entire household screams of overindulgence. I vow that if Laura and I get married, there will be none of this stiff, formal feeling in our home. Instead, there will be the sound of children laughing and playing.  
As we continue down the halls, servants pass us here and there. They never make eye contact and at one point I may not have noticed, or cared for that matter, but after meeting Laura, I’ve begun to see things in a different light. Finally we arrive at the Blue parlor (the mansion is really rather large), and the servant who escorted us rapts once on the door before taking her leave.  
Father’s voice sounds from inside his office. “Come.” I open the door for my sister and follow behind her, shutting the door after me.   
“You asked to see us?” I survey the room and find Madison in his favorite chair. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.  
“ Son, it is time we put our plan into action. Jemmy agrees that we should act sooner rather than later to prevent any hiccups.” I get an uneasy feeling in my gut.  
“ I don’t think this is the greatest of ideas Papa. What if she finds out and hates me? No. I cannot in good conscience do this.” My poor sister looks absolutely and utterly lost. I’m in no mood to explain, and I walk to the door and open it, only to find a page boy standing there, a letter clutched in his hands. He looks to us and smiles nervously.  
“Umm... Letter for Ms. Erika Jefferson.” We all look at Erika with confusion.   
“Give it here,” My father waves the boy over, wanting him to get out as soon as he could get him out.  
“I was told it goes into Miss Jefferson’s hands only. . .” He shuffles on his feet.  
“Oh here, I’ll take it then,” My sister comes up to the boy and he hands it to her. She smiles and waves him off as he runs off. She looks at the envelope, and then its seal and looks in surprise, “It’s the Hamilton’s seal, why would they send me a letter?”  
“I don’t know, open it and find out?” I tell her. She quickly opens it and and reads it, she was always quick to read everything. She smiles at us, holding the letter close to her.  
“It’s from one Laura Laurens, she wants to invite me to tea tomorrow?!” Father grins devilishly and I groan on the inside, this is not going to be good.  
“Pefect! I was about to ask you if you would like to have Miss Laurens over as well, I guess she beat us to the punch,” He smiles and Erika glances at me, confused. I shrug with a “I’ll tell you later look”   
“ I would love too, I guess?” She shrugs. “ Father, may I borrow your quill? I must send her my response.”   
Father passes her the quill and replies, “ I’ll do you one better, and summon a messenger.” He rings the bell and informs the responding servant of his needs. She curtsies and exits, whilst my sister finishes her response.   
I tentatively ask, “ Erika, may I chaperone you tomorrow, to, uh, make sure you arrive safely. Yeah.” Father frowns.   
“Son, if you allow yourself to become nervous and shy around females, they will walk all over you. Especially that Hamilton chit. Be a man for God’s sake!”   
Erika, sensing the coming argument over the state of my manhood, quickly interjects. “ Of course, big brother! I would love your company, that is , if it isn’t too much trouble.”   
We curtsy and bow to Father, “Father”   
I smile warmly at her enthusiasm and we walk out the room, “You’re welcome.”  
“Meci, I still don’t know why father insisted I be like him? He knows that I’m not like him,” I sigh and we walk in silence for a while.  
“Well, I don’t know, but are you going to explain why this happened to suddenly?”   
“You promise not to tell anyone?” She nods, “I’m in complete love with this woman, she’s fiery and intense, smart, independent, so I told father and he said that the only way to get close to the Hamilton’s was to have you become friends first, I don’t know about her though. When we parted, it wasn’t the nicest parting. . .” I shrug and look sad, at her.   
“Hey be it’ll be fine I know it, I’ll totally have her falling weak at the knees at the sight of you, don’t worry,” She winks at me, I blush at embarrassment, but we continue to walk to our rooms.  
“I hope so, Erika, I’m so Helpless for her~”


	4. A Trip to the Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erika is a great wing woman and Peter tries so hard, but in the end it doesn’t even matter.

This was torture, waiting for her response. I paced the room for an hour, and then started to calm down by writing, but I was fidgeting too much to concentrate. I end up going over to dad’s office to give us both a rest, because of course he’s working on stacks of paperwork, I smile and grab the stool by the door and sit across from him and lay my head on the desk. It takes him a minute to see me, wow new record. He places the quill in the pot and sign and looks at me.   
“What do you need, little one?” He goes so sweet when I do this.  
“I can’t concentrate on anything, too nervous.”  
“The Jefferson girl?”  
“Yeah, I don’t know what to do if she says yes or no!”  
“Here, let me tell you something, we are doing this because of politic. Just be yourself and stuff. You’ll be fine, everyone loves you, And if she has any sense, she’ll realize that and not have a problem with you. I haven’t met a single person that has had a big problem with you, so don’t worry.” He leans over and kisses my forehead, then ruffles my hair. I sigh and sit up and place my chins on my hands.  
“I wish Phillip was here, and Eliza, I’m soooooooooooooooo bored, cause you can’t take a break!” I pout and glare at him. Eliza and everyone went up to the Schuyler mansion for the summer, well everyone but Dad and me. He had to stay to get his debt plan through and I refuse to leave this man alone, I get scared he’ll die of starvation or something. So here we are in New York, when everyone is up state.  
He looks at me, almost guiltily, “I never asked you to stay with me, I was thinking you would go up state with Eliza and Angelica. I know you were anticipating her visit, she gave you that book you had been begging us to get you.” He grins at me.  
I stare back at him, “And leave you, no way. Dad, you can barely do things with all of us here, what makes you think you could live without us!” I raise my arms up in exasperation, and he gave a look that had “I don’t want to admit you’re right all over it. “  
“I can too live on my own, I did for a long time,” He crosses his arms.  
“Dad, you don’t have to now. You don’t take the time to slow down. Here come to the garden with me,” With that, I grab his arm and drag him out of his chair pulling him down to the garden. “Can we just walk and talk, we never just talk and do this anymore.”  
He protests weakly, “ But my debt plan… Ahhh alright, what did you want to talk about dear child.”  
“I don’t know I just want too, we both can do some good with getting away from our rooms, and especially from the debt plan.” I smile and pull you around the garden. We speak about nothing and everything, it was peaceful, it felt just like when Papa was . . . here, I miss him. We probably make three rings of around the garden when a messenger comes rushing towards us.   
“Uh, Miss Hamilton?”  
“My wife Eliza is up state I can take it till. . . “  
“No, Miss Laura Hamilton, I was told the letter was for a Miss Laura Hamilton.”  
“My last name is Laurens not Hamilton, but that’s me, here I’ll take it,” I outstretch my arm for the letter. He hands it to me and bows. He rushes off, apparently in a rush to get to his next destination. I look at it, the paper was a golden brown, very expensive, damn. I look at the seal and there I’m face to face with the seal of the Jefferson household.   
“It’s the Jefferson girl!” slightly jump as father, is leaning over my shoulder, and spoke right into my ear. I spin around and glare at him, “What?!”  
“You basically yelled into my ear, and yes it’s probably from Erika,” I open the letter and read the message.  
Dear Laura,   
I would be delighted to accompany you tomorrow afternoon. As far as a carriage goes, we have our own that will work just fine. Truth be told, I’m not sure how my father would react to your carriage in front of our house and quite frankly I don’t want to. To be sure, I will be at your residence at 2 o’clock on the dot.  
Ever Yours,  
Erika Marie Jefferson (=^w^=)  
I smile at Dad, “She so graciously agreed to my offer to come over tomorrow afternoon for tea!” I bounce. He looks at me with delight.  
“See. I told you, now can we go back inside?”   
“Yeeeeeesssss father, go continue to work on your debt plan. I've got an afternoon tea to plan!!” I move to dash off, but father stops me.   
“Wait! Here's a hint. The Jeffersons prefer French teas, meaning lots of fruity flavors.” I smile my thanks, kiss his cheek, and run to prepare the menu. I go up stairs to write down all the things I’ll be needing. After jotting down them I rush down the hall quickly poking in my head just long enough to say goodbye and rush off. I think I saw a woman but I shake it off. I grab a basket and rushing out to the market.  
I slow my speed the closer I got to the market. I smile and begin to search for the tea section. I move through the market as common knowledge for Father couldn’t go to the market to get food for the life of him. I smile and wave at the people in the market. I finally reach the tea and start searching them. Fruity flavored tea, need to find flavored tea. I tap my chin as I search for them. I start to look through them, maybe a raspberry that sounds nice. Maybe a strawberry, or peach? I don’t know I just like normal tea. I finally decide on a raspberry one. I grab a couple and find the merchant to buy them when a pat on my shoulder happen. I turn and there's Peter, Peter Jefferson with a small smile.  
“Hello, nice to see you again.” He smiles, and I frown, no I don’t want to deal with this right now.   
“Hello, Mr. Jefferson.” I continue to the merchant and pay for the tea. I start to ignore his presence as I walk around the market.  
“It’s Peter, Mr. Jefferson is my father, I’m just Peter,” He smiles shyly at me.   
“Oh well that’s nice,” I nod and start to walk away to another stall for fruit, need more of that for tomorrow or just in general. I walk around picking up fruit and with Peter on my heels, I turn around, “Do you need something Mr. Jefferson, I am quite busy and need to concentrate!”  
His face goes sad, puppy face. I soften my shoulders, oh that was kind of mean, “I just wanted to help if you needed some help.”  
“I don’t need help, so now thank you go away,” I turn around and walks to the next stall as I leave him behind me. I looks around the stalls and starts to feel this guilt in my chest. Was I to mean to him? I do need to be nice to him and his sister. Oh man I feel kind of bad now.


	5. Flowers and Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If at first you don’t succeed....
> 
>  
> 
> Peter’s POV

“D-Désolé pour le dérangement.” I stammer and give a little wave, not even realizing that not only had she walked away, but that I wasn’t even speaking english. Mon Dieu, what am I even doing? I want her so badly, but she wants nothing to do with me. There has to be a way to win her over, there just has to. As I walk through the colorful stalls at the market, I spot a flower vender. The lightbulb goes off, and I walk over to the merchant.   
“Wow, You have quite the selection of flowers sir” I remarked kindly.  
He responds with a hearty,” Of course son, flowers are my life. Now, what kind of flowers were you looking for?”  
I blush with embarrassment, but nonetheless answer,” Well, sir. They’re for a girl I really like. She’s so beautiful and has the mind of a genius. I never felt this way about anyone before.”  
He chuckles, “Of course they are. First thing: Roses are out. Everyone gives their sweetheart a rose. If she’s as beautiful as you say she is, she’s probably already received plenty of those. “ I nod enthusiastically, mentally taking notes.” Second: You said she was a genius, right? Then she hopefully has at least basic knowledge of flower meanings, or at least the resources to research them. I’m positive we can find the perfect flower here for you my boy!”  
I watch anxiously as he surveys his colorful, sweet smelling domain. It isn’t long before I hear the telltale, “ AHA! I found exactly what you need son. “ I wait with baited breath as he turns back to me, holding a bouquet of small light purple flowers. “ These are lilacs. They represent first love. Not only that, but if she really likes them, I have pots of the stuff that you can buy, so she can grow them herself.”   
I look at him with gratitude, “Thank you so much sir!” I take the bouquet and hand him fifty cents He gives me a shocked look and I tell him, “ Keep the change as a token of my gratitude and I will definitely be back for more flowers. Merci beaucoup monsieur!” I walk away, cradling the beautiful flowers, and walk to where I last saw Laura. I begin to methodically search for her amongst the stalls before finally spotting her. Just the sight of her makes me have butterflies in my stomach. I cautiously approach her, remembering the last time I interrupted her. “ Uhhh...Laura? Pardon, I know you don’t want my help, but I thought some flowers might help brighten your day…?” I blush and look down. I hold them out, awaiting her judgement, hoping that she likes them.  
I feel them being taken out of my arms and I look up to she her face tilted slightly down to the ground and with a slighty hint of blush. I start to stand up straight and look at her as she holds them a little tightly. Her eyes look up to me over the flowers and through her bangs, “ Thank you Mr- Peter,” she coughs ,”Peter thank you Peter, these are very thoughtful. It’s a good thing I had just finished my shopping for the day, so I don’t have to carry them around the market.” She grins to me and I smile. Oh my goodness she likes them! She’s smiling at me, but then looks conflicted, before asking in a forced mannert,”Would you like to accompany me home Peter, it would be nice to have someone to walk with. . .” She looks to me slightly strained but also nervous,  
I rub the back of my neck and force myself to sound nonchalant, “ Sure Miss Laurens, I would love to accompany you. I know you are quite capable of carrying the groceries yourself, but since I’m walking with you anyway, how about we share the load?”  
She looks at the baskets she carrying and looks to me and sighs as she takes one and holds it out to me. Its one of the the more full ones, and I reach out and it’s not as light as they seem, “Thank you. . . “ She says in a lovely voice. she comes in a little closer to me and motions for us to walk, her taking the lead, ‘So Peter what brought you to the market this fine afternoon?” She looks up to me. Oh goodness she’s so tiny.!  
“Well, as you know, Erika is going to your home for tea tomorrow afternoon, so she asked me to bring her a new ribbon for the occasion. She is really excited to meet you. Word of….warning, Erika is very, uh, excitable. Maybe a bit on the childish side even. But I’m sure you’ll get along famously. What about you? Did Secretary Hamilton need more ink and quills?” I remark teasingly.  
“No Father didn’t need those,” She sighs but smiles, “ I realized we needed more food in the house as well as more teas, or from what I heard teas your family would enjoy,” She peps up in her step, she looks up to me and smiles, “Do you and your sister like raspberry tea?” She tilts her head in wonder.   
I grin in response, “We love it! But you really didn’t have to go to such lengths for us, Miss Laurens. We are perfectly content drinking whatever tea you may have in your home. Thank you, for being so considerate to our tastes.” I give a little bow in her direction. “ What is your favorite tea Miss Laurens, so that we may obtain some, should you decide to visit our home in the future?”  
“Oh well you’re welcome I just thought you would want something nicer then just the plain tea I drink, and it wasn’t a problem. I promise I really did need to get food, we have such a bad habit in our household, Normally Aunt Eliza is the one to keep Dad and I straight so it’s not that bad. “ She scratches her head as she laughs, oh her beautiful laugh, “ But uh I just like normal tea, I don’t know. It’s not a thing I pay attention to in life. . . “ she looks to the ground and holds the flowers a little tighter to her chest, “Um it’s just Laura, Peter, just call me Laura . . . .” I look at her and see a small hint of something bigger in her eyes than just wanting to be called Laura.   
I smile with happiness, “ Alright… Laura. Such a pretty name for such a pretty girl. “ I love the way her name feels on my tongue. I struggle for a safe topic of conversation before finally asking, “Laura? What’s your favorite color? “  
She looks slightly bewildered by this turn of events, not me calling her pretty but asking her favorite color, “Oh, uh, Green like this combination green of greens, like yellow green and normal green. When I was little it was this blue color like the color of the coats my Papa and Dad wore in the war, but I grew to enjoy the color green more,” She smiles as if she’s remembering a fond memory of something of the sort.  
I give her a self depreciating smile, “Alas, I must confess my favorite is a pink, close to the flowers you’re holding, in fact. Father insists that such a color is only for females, but I fancy it more than any other color.” I look away, embarrassed that I actually said that. Seriously Peter, you could’ve picked any other color. I should just give up now.   
She looks at the flowers and then back to me, “Well I don’t see what’s so bad with pink, it’s not a bad color. Why would your father say something like that? I first met the man in a bright pompous magenta suit, it’s just a darker version of pink?!” She looks this angry confused at the ground as she mutters to herself about my father and how he’s so disrespectful to even his own son.  
As much as I am flattered, I can’t help but feel that father is probably right. “ Father just worries Laura. I’m not like him, not really. I like pink, I’m not very aggressive, I can’t stand arguments, and I have no interest in politics. It scares him. He worries that I’m not… Masculine enough, I guess.” I keep my eyes to the pavement, mortification seeping into my bones.  
She’s silent for a moment a long moment. Mon Dieu what is she thinking? Whatever it is, it can’t be good, “That’s stupid. . .” I jolt my head up to her and she’s staring straight forward with this fire in her eyes. She turns to me, “I understand that a man has to look out for his son, and I understand that this world views a man to have very different qualities than what you present, but that’s stupid. You are a person with thoughts, and beliefs, and interests. So why can’t you like pink and not want to be a politician?, It’s your life! No one should stand in your way. We live here in the greatest city in the world, they can’t take away your freedom to like the color pink!!!!” She looks furious, she was tensing the more she spoke, but she continued to walk and hold the basket and flowers.  
I look at her, speechless. Her impassioned speech made me feel so special. “ … Thank you Laura, that means a lot to me. And for what it’s worth, I think you would make a great politician. I will be rooting for your success. Maybe you’ll hire me to paint your portrait some day when you finally get into Congress? “ I smile good naturedly.  
With that, all the tension she built up, had disappeared and she laughed, “Oh well thank you, and as much as I hope to prove that wrong, the closest I’m getting to congress is sitting outside its front doors waiting for father to finish a meeting, “ She scratches her head and smiles brightly. “ but you paint?” She looks to me.   
“I do, but I’m no Michelangelo. Actually, father says my paintings aren’t worth the parchment I paint them on, but if you’d like, I could send one with Erika tomorrow, and you can judge for yourself.”  
“Of course I would love one! And screw your father for saying that to you, god the nerve of that man is of no bounds, he’s so horrible gahhhhh” she looks forward and the fire reignited in her eyes.  
“ Laura, it’s fine. Like I said, father worries. My love for the arts is just one more concern to him. And I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think you are trustworthy, but father doesn’t really like our acquaintanceship. He says that you will run right over me and I will be too spineless to say anything, but Laura, I like you a lot. I don’t think you would try to take advantage of me, or my family, so my father can piss off on that one.”  
She looks at me with a neutral smile but her eyes have this hidden look to her. She breaths in to say something, but notices see we’ve reached her home in record time. We walk up the stairs and I hand her the basket back as she opens the door,”Thank you Peter, and I will be seeing you again hopefully. I wish you the best of health till we meet again.” She smiles and quickly closes the door with a slight slam at the end. I stare at the door,before letting out a quiet “Yes!” and all but skipping home. Afterall, I have a painting to wrap!


	6. Include Women in the Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton loves his daughter, in his own special way.

OH MY LORD WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! After slamming the door closed I lean against it and drop the baskets and hold the flowers tightly in my arms, What am I going to do? I stop for a moment. Okay, so now the plan is working, but he thinks I’m this saint! Oh god why me! My brain starts to race at a million miles per second till I hear a voice calling me, “Laura are you home?” Father appears at the top of the stairs and I look at him. I snap out of the trance I got myself into.   
“Oh yes, hello! I’m home with food and tea. . . “ I look at the flowers, “and flowers!” I smile brightly trying to play off that I’m a lot better than I really am. Father sees straight through my facade and walks down the stairs to me concerned.   
“Are you alright, did something happen, why did you buy purple flowers?” He looks at me with this look we share. I relax a little bit.  
“Yes I’m fine they were given to me by Peter, Peter Jefferson I met him in the market and he gave them to me,” He smiled.  
“So is the plan working?” I nod  
“Yes, it is I uh, haven’t heard anything yet, so it’s still a work in progress,” I smile back at him. He smiles and picks up the baskets and moves us to the kitchen, where we start to put the food away.  
“Well you seem to have this under control, that’s good.” He nods and I hum back. How am I going to tell him about Peter’s . . . liking to me. “Oh sweetheart I just remembered in a week or two, when Eliza and the children are still upstate , there’s to be presidential dinner I have to go to, and I was wondering if you would like to come, seeing is you are old enough.” He smiles to me as we finish the groceries.  
“Father you only want me there to have another like minded person, but yes I would love to come,” I smirk back to him.  
“That’s good, but besides that, Eliza was showing concern that you haven’t shown any. . . . let's say interest in a suitor,” He groans out and I groan with him. We both know that I don’t have an interest because I want to be free of that and marry for love and equal qualities then power and money and status.   
“Father we still have the list, I don’t need to go to some stupid Presidential Dinner and Ball to find a suitor!” I pouts as I find a vase for my flowers these are so beautiful, not like the roses I receive once in awhile, I’ll have to brush up on their meanings, I’m sure he gave me these for a reason.   
“Every time we got to the list you cross off 80% of all suitors, but fine I understand you don’t want to go for that reason. However, I want you there, and the Washingtons would love to see you.As far as they are concerned, they feel you don’t visit enough, and the Jeffersons will be there. That means another good opportunity to find something on them,” He goes on and on about all the reasons I should go. I fill the vase with water and place the lowers in it. I smile and hold them as I walk to my room, kissing fathers cheek on the way. I make it to my room and find a spot for them, right on my desk. The smell is quite amazing. I grab the rose from earlier and place it softly in the middle of the bouquet, so the single red rose is surrounded in a sea of purple. I think it looks quite lovely.   
Now I need to plan for tomorrow's tea party. This will be a little difficult for me because I don't know much about her, but I do manage to get by with what I little information I do have. After of hours of choosing the menu, the venue, the seating, and all those fancy things that I don’t ever think of normal. Ugh! I really don't want to spend the rest of my life doing this. I want to read, study, debate! Why did I have to be born in this century?! I look out the window and see it’s really dark outside, and I’m not tired but I have to try to get some sleep. I also have to try to get Dad to sleep too. I quickly change into a simple night gown. It’s small and soft. Not like how most of my dresses puffs out, this one just lays nicely down. I quickly rush out of the room to Dad’s study and I see him bent over the desk writing away again. I softly walk over to look at what he was writing. Huh, it’s the same thing he was writing when I left for the market, that’s weird he usually finishes one a day.   
He looks up and I makes eye contact and I look at him and he sighs, “I’m not a child Laura, go to bed I have to finish this before work tomorrow,” He goes back to the paper and I sigh and go grab my book. I grab a seat and read next to him. It’s a tradition of a sort, I would sit next to him as he writes. Papa would catch us in the war and scold us. tell us to go to sleep. Eliza soon discovered this poor habit and would take over for Papa but it’s not the same, Eliza would only succeed half the time. Papa always got it to work. I miss Papa.  
I finish the book and am so happy, It was so good, but why must him and Mr. Jefferson only add men, women can do these things and have all these qualities. I look to father and chuckle as he must have passed out before I finished it. I tap his shoulder and he jerks open and he looks to me and I laugh. He gets up and a little bit of ink stained his face but I don’t think it matters this late. I hold his arm as we make it to his room and as I let go he holds me tightly, “You know I love you correct?”  
“Oh course father, I know you love me, why?”  
“Just making sure. . . . can you indulge your old man and stay to the night like when you were little I know you’re too old but-”  
“Of course, Dad, I don’t mind. . . is something on your mind?” I see his eyes and they looked conflicted, I stare worried at him, “Dad. . .”  
“I was just. . .” He pauses, “You’re father, John. . . .”  
I hug him tightly and he hugs back. I think and sigh, “It’s coming up soon isn’t it. . . “ He nods in him hug and i pull him in bed and after the light goes out I pass out. Oh I hope this meeting will go well, I don’t want to disappoint dad.


	7. Lovely Ribbons and Lonely Dinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter still has shopping to do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter to nackledamia! Thank you for reading my story!

I continued on my way home, contemplating which painting to give her. I could give her my favorite painting of Monticello’s landscape that I painted the last time I was there, but that seems like something she might find unpleasant, considering her hatred for not only the south, but my father. As I walk back through the market, suddenly it hit me. Flowers! I could paint some flowers for her! But what kind….? I trek over to the flower vendor who helped me earlier and politely grab his attention.  
“Excuse me sir? Would you help me out one more time?”  
“Of course son! What can I do you for?”  
“Ummm… well, I think the girl really liked the flowers from earlier, and well I've decided to paint some for her . Did you have any flowers with a similar meaning?”  
He smiles,” If course son! In fact, I know exactly what you need to impress your lady friend!” He rummages through his baskets upon baskets of flowers. I hear the tell tale “AHA!” , and glance at him. “ These my friend, are gloxinias. They symbolize love at first sight.” I take one look at the bright red flowers and decide they are perfect. I take the basket from him and hand him a quarter.   
“Thank you so much sir!”  
“The pleasure is all mine! It's not often I get to play matchmaker with you youngsters. My wife says it's more trouble than it's worth.”  
I smile at him and move through the stalls, ready to go home, until I remember I still hadn't gotten Erika her ribbon. I make my way over to that stall and smile at the familiar shopkeeper. “ Hello Mrs. Bellwether! Erika wants yet another of your beautiful ribbons!” .  
She teases back, “ And what would a man like yourself know about choosing ribbon?”  
I grin, “ Absolutely nothing, but I do know it's got be lavender to match her dress. The rest I'm going to have to rely on you for I'm afraid.”   
She lightly smacks my arm and says, “ You're lucky I like you, Peter Jefferson. Otherwise I would tell you to take your nonsense elsewhere.” She grumbles, but begins searching for the appropriate ribbon. In the meantime, my eyes wander around the colorful stall before settling on a basket full of green ones. I recall that Laura said that her favorite color was green, maybe she would like one? I ease my way over there so as not to disturb Mrs. Bellwether in her task and begin looking through the basket, before stumbling along a beautiful green ribbon with white flowers embroidered along the length of it. With sudden conviction, I decide to purchase the ribbon, and give it to her tomorrow. I indulge myself in imagining Laura's reaction to my gift when I hear Mrs. Bellwether call my name. I snap out of it and respond, “ Sorry, my head was in the clouds for a moment.”  
“ I'll say.” She hands me the ribbon and I inform her that I will be purchasing a second one. “ My oh my, my little Peter has gotten himself a girl!” I blush and look at the floor.  
“Will you just tell me what I owe you? You're embarrassing me!” She gives me the total and give her the appropriate amount of money. She laughs and I walk away quickly. After about fifteen minutes, I reach my home and walk in, to be greeted by servants. I stop one and ask, “Where is my father?”   
She keeps her eyes to the ground and replies, “ Master Jefferson is in the study with Master Madison sir.” I frown at her unwillingness to look me in the eye, but shrug it off and thank her. If father is talking to Madison, that means I can paint in the gazebo in the back. I grab parchment from my room and make my way to my favorite spot and set up. I meticulously lay out my brushes and inhale, loving the relaxing scents in the gardens. I position the flowers and move back to my parchment. I dip my brush in paint and it seems like I've entered a trance. I don't even realize how much time has passed until I finish and look up to see the sun setting. I hurriedly put away my materials and carefully carry my painting inside. I set it on my desk to dry. I make my way to the dining room, only to find out that I will be dining alone again today. I sigh and make my way slowly through my evening meal. As I'm sitting there, eating alone, I can't help but dream of days where I won't have to eat alone. I dream of the day when I get Laura to marry me, and maybe a few years down the line, a little one will join us. I picture lively family dinners without all the stiff formality that permeates the air in the house. Maybe we'll get a little place in Harlem. I don't need much, just family. That would be enough.  
I finish my meal and excuse myself, and head to my room. On impulse, I pick up a quill and write “ Tu ne said pas, but je t'aime, Laura….” . I smile and reason that she doesn't know French well enough yet to understand, and by the time she does, I will have told her myself . I roll up the painting and tie a neat bow with the hair ribbon I got her. I dress for bed and snuff the candles. I get in my bed and go to sleep, dreaming of tomorrow.


	8. Afternoon Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erika’s POV! Bless this child! She’s kicking butt and taking names!

I wake up to the crow of the roosters, and roll out of bed. Suddenly, I remember what day it is and run to Peter's room. I burst into his room and immediately jump on him. “ Ma frère! Ma frère! Do you know what today is?!” He groans and rolls over- what a downer ! I decide to take pity on him and go back to my room. With some help, I put on my beautiful lavender dress and fix my hair with the ribbon Peter purchased for me yesterday.   
I walk back to the room and find that Peter has already gotten out of bed. I dash down the stairs to find him in the kitchens, which means father must not be home. He is sitting on one of the benches, reading something. I walk over to him and tap his shoulder. “ Ques-que c’est?” He silently hands it to me. It's a note from father.  
Erika and Peter,  
I had some business to attend to in town, and therefore will not be there to see you off. However, I still expect a full report from you when I return.   
Secretary of State,  
Thomas Jefferson 

I frown at the formality of the note. Papa didn't even sign it with “love, your father” or even “sincerely “! I take one look at Peter and know that he picked on that as well. He smiles sadly and gets up. He hands me a box from the count and picks up a piece of parchment wrapped in ribbon. I look down at the box and ask,” Mon frère, what is in the box?”  
He smiles and replies,” Well I thought it would be rude to show up empty handed, so I prepared some crepes for you two to enjoy.”

I squeal and put down the box so I can hug him. “Merci beaucoup, brother! You know how I love it when you make them!” 

He chuckles,” De rien, it is no trouble dear sister. Now, we must be on our way if we are to be on time.” He grabs the parchment and I follow him to the front door. I smile as he helps me into the carriage and soon we are trundling down the street, headed for the Hamilton residence. I look out the carriage window, still in awe of our surroundings. I look over to Peter and find him lost in his own world, probably worrying about something he shouldn't. I want to ask him about it, but I know he won't tell me, so I leave it be. Soon we approach the Hamilton’s home and brother helps me out of the carriage. He hands me the box and grabs the parchment. We walk up the steps and I knock soundly on their door. I hear a feminine voice call out,”Coming!” The door opens and soon I am greeted with the most lovely sight I have seen in my entire life. There stood a Laura Hamilton. She stood this in a lovely rich green dress that touched the ground as it has a white ruffle. THe dresses had a shawl attached to it in white. Her hair flowed down her shoulder to her lower back. Her bangs hanged softly over her face as the rest was pulls back into a tight bun. Her eyes pierced through me and I love those chocolate eyes. They make me swoon inside and I smile as I have no way to stop these feelings from growing inside me. I realize I'm staring and quickly curtsy .

“ My name is Erika Jefferson and you must be the lovely Laura Hamilton! It's a pleasure to meet you! Also this is my brother Peter…” I turn around to find that Peter is still standing by the carriage, looking more nervous than I've ever seen him. It is then that I realize three things:

1)I'm a girl in a world where my only job is to marry well. Not only that, but a relationship with Laura is impossible.

2)I'd be a fool not to consider the fact that Laura is a Hamilton, there is no telling what kind of ulterior motives she may have.

3)I know my brother like I know my own mind, if I told him that I loved her, he'd be silently resigned. He'd say he's fine, he'd be lying.

It is then that I take my next course of action. I turn back to Laura and curtsy. “Excuse me for a moment” I march over to Peter and drag him back to where I was standing . He blushes and bows, “ it's a pleasure to see you again Laura… I brought the painting you requested…” I watch intently as he hands it to her. 

She smiles politely, “Thank You Peter! I was waiting all day after we parted.” She takes the rolled up painting careful as to not to ruin it in the small time frame. She curtsies and steps back from the door a little bit, “Well it’s a pleasure to finally meet you Ms. Jefferson, please come in she holds her arm into the room, “Oh and Ms. Jefferson, my last name is Laurens not Hamilton, but please just refer to me as Laura.” She smiles. 

“ My apologies, I didn't not mean to offend you Laura. I was unaware that was not your last name. Please, call me Erika.” 

I step in, but Peter chimes in, “ Well, I'll be off. After all my duty was to that my sister arrived safely.” He walks away and I shake my head at his awkward behavior. I follow Laura into what looks like a sitting room before remembering the box. “ Umm.. Laura? I brought along some crepes. Or rather Peter made them and said I should bring them because it would be rude to show up empty handed. Were you interested in having some?”  
Her eye glitter at the word crepes, “You brought crepes! I haven’t had crepes in so many years its sad. Of Course I would love some!” She takes the box from my hands, accidentally brushing my hands at it happened, “You must thank Peter for making them. . . . Did he really make them, or did he just have someone else make them? I know your family has slaves that do that for you,” She looks at them with this small pout on her face as she starts to look disgusted with them.  
“Oh no, Laura. Peter made those. He learned how to do it while we were in France, along with many other delicious treats. He can only make them when Papa isn't around though. Papa doesn't like him doing things like that. “ I smile sadly. “ I feel bad for poor Peter. He always seems to get the short end of the proverbial stick.”   
Laura looks at me with this shocked face. She looks at the boxes and so quickly shakes her head and looks at me, “Here i don’t want them to get cold. Follow me, please,” She starts to walk through the house. I follow her closely, and we soon reach the garden and it's quite huge. She navigates it with ease and we reach the center. There sat a table and a couple of chairs. It’s a pure white wood with a deep red cloth that covers both of them. She places the box on the table next to some pastries and fruits. She looks back to me and points out a chair and I take it. She sits across from me with a smile.   
“ Thank you for inviting me Laura! “ I take a plate and scoop a crepe onto it. “ As I was saying , Peter is always dealt the worst hand. Papa always had high hopes for him and was very strict, but made time for at least a little fun. Then mama passed away giving birth to me, and papa threw himself into his work. Peter was still really young, but still did his best to be both papa and mama for me. Then papa was assigned to France. He became busier than ever, and we rarely saw him. I didn't know anything different, so it didn't affect me much, but poor Peter missed his papa. One day when he was crying, a slave brought him into the kitchen and taught him how to make crepes. When he finally got taste it, he giggled and loved it. Of course, because he was so proud, and didn't know any better, he tried his best and made some for papa, hoping it would have the same effect on him. It did the opposite. Father got mad that he was “ doing a slave’s work “ and sent him away. Poor Peter, he probably wouldn't have made one ever again had I not cried for more.” I eat my crepe with enthusiasm.   
She was so silent after I finished, I glance at her and she’s looking at the bx of crepes with a somber face. She hand her hands in her lap and was sitting straight, “I see, I never had time to learn to do any of those things, but I think it’s amazing” She smiles and I can see the strain, like she's walking on eggshells.   
I chuckle, “ Oh darling, don't worry about it! Besides that's nothing compared to what happened when papa found out Peter took up painting and poetry…” I finish my crepe and pour myself tea. I take a sip and hum. Raspberry is my favorite.  
She lifts her head up to look at me, “How’s the tea? I heard from Peter you were fond of that flavor,” She sighs and reaches for a crepe, placing it on her plate. She takes a small bits and I can see the strain on her face to not melt at them, it's really hard, but she looks at them, “Peter is so good at this. This is delicious! I was wondering though, if it's not too much to ask, but why is painting so horrible to your father?” She slowly asks in a soft voice.  
I smile, but even I know it's not convincing.” I don't think it's the painting itself papa has a problem with. I think papa really wanted Peter to be just like him. Poor Peter still constantly looked for father’s approval after the crepe incident, and so he tried writing. However, it was not like secretary Hamilton’s writing. Peter's writing wasn't essays arguing a particular point of view. No, they were poems. Some of the ones he wrote were happy, he wrote those for me. However most of the poems he wrote were very melancholy. They expressed all his negative experiences and emotions. When father found out, he burned them all. One by one, and made Peter watch. Peter hasn't written a poem since. After that endeavor failed, Peter tried painting. His art is truly amazing, this time, he tried to hide it from papa, and he was happy. But all good things come to an end. Long story short, the paintings ended up with the poems. “ I sip my tea and continue. “ Eventually Peter became old enough to attend social gatherings with papa. Papa constantly put him in the spotlight, even though he hated it. Peter did his best, but it just wasn't him. Not really. He began to resent politics and everything related. Even now Peter and papa don't get along, but papa needs an heir, so he can't disown him, or at least that's what he says.”  
I look over to her and I see her has just stopped with the restraint and is wide eyed, “That’s horrible. . . . how could anyone do that to their own child?! I understand a loss of a loved one, but a legacy is for you to leave not for your child to leave it!” I begin to her anger slowly build, “Not even Father would do that to Phillip! Your father has no right to do that, he is his own person!” She pauses and breaths in and holds her breath, and slowly releases it, “ I always disliked Mr.Jefferson, not just because I was a Hamilton child and did not approve of his views, but this is too much for anyone! Do not defend him like Peter does. This is vile and horrible!” She grabs her dress in her hands and looks down to her lap, with a smile trembling on her face .   
I finish my tea and stand up. “ So you see, I feel that it is my job to protect Peter. I know he has developed an… affection for you Laura. And that is fine… I have no problem with this development. However, I know papa, and to a certain degree, I know Hamilton. Their interests lay not in the heart, but in gaining a political advantage, it is to be expected. But I am asking you as a friend, please do not hurt him anymore than he has been. He does not deserve it. Now, I do believe it is time to make my grand exit. The tea was lovely, raspberry is my favorite. I hope we can meet for tea again sometime soon. Now I will take my leave Laura, and do not worry, I can find my way out.” I walk out of the Hamilton residence with my head held high.


End file.
